


Of Early Missions, Cover Stories, and Bonds Forged in Fire

by SabbyStarlight



Series: George Eads Appreciation Week 2020! [4]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Branding, Burns, Gen, Hurt Jack, Hurt/Comfort, Ouch, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22924558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SabbyStarlight/pseuds/SabbyStarlight
Summary: Day Four of George Eads Appreciation Week! Whump day!No Jack Daltons were harmed in the making of this story, this is only a fic.
Series: George Eads Appreciation Week 2020! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645582
Comments: 21
Kudos: 41





	Of Early Missions, Cover Stories, and Bonds Forged in Fire

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely 12percentplan answered the call for inspiration a while back when I needed an injury Mac and Jack would have had to hide from Bozer and this is the result.

Jack Dalton was a man of many talents but none were more impressive than his ability to talk. And talking when he wasn't supposed to be? Using it to his advantage, was at the top of his skill list. 

"I'm telling you, man," Jack grinned, fighting to keep himself relaxed, casual. "You screwed up big time by takin' me in. Should've just let me keep doin' my thing. Would'a been outta your hair in no time at all. Now you got this whole event set up," He used the opportunity to glance around the room his captors were holding him in, searching for escape routes other than the door they had dragged him through. It was nearly empty, a storage room of some sort, with a fireplace tucked into the wall behind him. At least, Jack thought it was a fireplace. He could hear the wood popping as it burned but it was too far away to feel the heat on his bare back. "Bad call by you, I'm warning you now." 

"If by 'doing your thing'," Lawrence Woodfield, the nefarious bad guy of the week, sneered, matching Jack's nonchalance with ease. "You mean allowing you to plant the listening device your superiors sent you to my compound with so they could spy on the base of my operations? Then no, I really don't think I should have let you proceed, Agent." 

"Oh, hey!" Jack's grin doubled. "Good on you, maybe you aren't as dumb as you look! You figured that out pretty quick for a slow guy, didn't ya? I'm impressed. I'd give you a well-earned round of applause but, well," He looked up at his hands, tied over his head by loops of heavy rope. "I'm a little tied up at the moment." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper and he winked. "And not in the fun way, if you catch my drift." 

"If fun is what you're looking for?" the smile on the other man's face was nothing but pure evil and it caused the coil of dread harboring in Jack's gut to begin to unfurl. "Then it was most certainly you, who made the bad call here. Because I'm sure you won't find the events I have scheduled for this evening very enjoyable at all. At least for you. I, on the other hand, will enjoy them immensely." 

"I'm warning you, buddy," Jack shook his head, disappointed. "You don't know who you're messing with." 

"I assure you, Agent, that is not the case," His polished boots clicked against the floor as he walked slowly behind Jack and tossed another log onto the fire behind where Jack was hanging, casting eerie shadows onto the wall in front of him. "I know exactly who I'm dealing with." 

"Yeah yeah," Jack rolled his eyes, trying once again to pull his hands free with no success. "You think you know who you're dealin' with. You know I'm an agent, blah blah blah. And since I'm not tryin' to convince you otherwise, you know I'm American, can probably even narrow it down to the good ol' state of Texas, if you really are as smart as you wanna believe you are. And you're all proud, thinkin' you've went and caught a big fish, but really, pal, you don't even know what pond you were castin' your reel in." 

"As charming as your little colloquialisms are," Woodfield smirked. "I think you would be impressed with just how much I do know." 

Jack tilted his head to the side, pondering for a moment before busting out into a laugh that would have sounded believable to someone who didn't know him. "Nah. It takes more than some two-bit wannabe like you to impress me. The baddies I've seen? The real dangerous ones? Trust me, dude, they'd give your nightmares bad dreams." 

"Is that so?" 

"Yup." Jack scuffed the toe of his boots across the seams in the wooden floor below him, putting off an air of boredom. "Hey, mister bigshot, why don't you humor me, huh? Make the time pass faster? Who you think I work for?" 

"And why would I play my best card so early in the game?" he asked. "Where's the fun in that?" 

"Just curious," Jack shrugged as best he could with his arms tied above his head. "You said you knew, almost had me believin' it for a second there. But if you're not willing to talk... It makes me think I was right all along here and you don't have a clue what kind of Ponderosa's box you've done went and opened up." 

"Ponderosa?" Woodfield laughed, genuinely entertained by the word choice, which hadn't been Jack's plan. "I believe you mean Pandora. Ponderosa is... if my memory serves me well, a chain of steakhouses. Based out of your beloved home state of Texas, I do believe." 

"Ah," Jack snapped his fingers, the sound muffled by the restraints. "Sorry, my mistake. That's what I was thinkin' about. Guess my mind was on food. Hey, whattaya say when this is over and you've come to your senses you and me go hunt down the nearest one and make up over dinner. I could really go for a steak right about now. You're buying though, to make up for this bein' such an inconvenience on my part." 

"I do not believe you'll be very hungry when we are through here," His smile grew and Jack found his eyes panning over towards the door. Not that he was wishing Mac had been caught as well, that was never an ideal situation, but he was starting to hope the last-minute save he knew his partner would come through with would be arriving sooner than later. He was expecting to take a few hits and run his mouth but apparently their target had some more nefarious plans up his sleeve. 

"Oh yeah?" Jack didn't like having his back turned towards his captors but the ropes holding his arms in place didn't have enough slack for him to turn. "Why's that? See, I think you're just stallin'. That whole shtick about knowing who I work for was just to waste time, try to get me to let it slip. But I ain't talkin'." 

"Where's the poetry in me telling you," There was a clanging of metal that Jack couldn't identify, too dense to be knives or any sort of weapon. "When I can leave you with something much more memorable instead?"

He moved quick, Jack would give him that much credit. He barely had time to notice that the man had stepped alongside him, let alone begin to process the glow of the branding iron in his hand before it was pressed against his side, high up on his ribcage, just beneath his armpit. The smell hit him a moment before the pain, the choking scent of burning flesh, and Jack screamed. 

He wasn't given a chance to catch his breath or begin to blink away the stars that were sparking in front of his eyes before the pain was back, barely having changed positions but just as excruciating as the first time. A brand, a tiny piece of his brain, the part that wasn't shooting rapid-fire warning signs throughout the rest of his body, realized. That's what this was. Not just a burn, but a brand. A new type of torture he had never experienced. Not in his few short months working for the Department of External Services. Not back in his CIA days. Not even on the rare but unpleasant occasions he was taken hostage in the Army or running with his Delta crew. This was an entirely new level of pain and that itself was unsettling. 

Two marks down and he was left panting as Woodfield reheated the iron, thankful, for a change, that he was being held up by the thick ropes because he knew there was no way his legs would be steady enough to hold him upright at the moment. He felt as if his entire body was shaking, trembling from the roaring pain, trying to come apart at the seams to escape. "I'm still not telling you," He was quite proud of the fact that his voice sounded anywhere close to normal considering his precarious situation. He had half expected to lose the lunch he and Mac had grabbed on their way into town when he reopened his mouth. 

"You don't have to tell me anything," The pain was back, sudden and agonizing, worse than the first time, which he hadn't known was possible. Jack's screams were loud enough to nearly drown out the words. "I told you, I already know." 

A fourth line was seared into his flesh and Jack had just enough presence of mind left to think that if he survived, he would have to make a visit out to his dad's grave and tell him they had a lot of apologizing to do to all the livestock that had withstood that treatment on the ranch over the years. That was all he could think about as the next mark was added and his world went dark. 

He would like to say he was awake when Mac found him. He had vague, hazy memories as the torture continued and then, finally, of Woodfield leaving, but they were so sporadic and unfocused that he wasn't entirely sure his mind hadn't dreamed them up. The first thing he was truly aware of was Mac's hands, familiar, safe, comforting, checking his pulse and slapping at his cheeks until he woke completely up. 

"Hey," Mac sighed in relief and Jack frowned at him, blinking through the haze of pain at the paleness of his partner's face. He was terrified. "Hey, big guy, it's okay, I've gotcha. I'm gonna get you down, okay? First step in getting us out of here." 

Jack nodded, focusing on keeping himself breathing, evenly, ignoring the burn pulsating with each heartbeat that pulled every time his chest moved, as Mac's little red knife sawed through the ropes. 

His body dropped as the final coils snapped beneath his weight, Mac's careful hands catching him as best he could and helping slow the journey to the cold ground. It still was far from pleasant as the movement sent shockwaves through his body and ripped what could only be described as a keening wail from the back of his throat as his arms dropped to his sides.

"Easy, easy," Mac's voice wavered as his hands hovered, uncertain, desperate to help, to fix, but terrified to make the situation worse. “That looks pretty bad, don’t let your arm touch it, okay? Just, stay still.” 

“Need outta here,” Jack whispered, voice hoarse from yelling his way through the pain.

“Okay, okay, lemme get my phone,” Mac scrambled to pull his phone out of his jacket pocket with his free hand. The other arm had fallen victim to Jack’s hand, comfort, assurance, and keeping the underside of his arm from rubbing against the burn all from one vise-like grip. “I’m gonna get us out of here, okay? Get us safe, get you some help.” 

"We're made.” Mac declared as soon as Patricia Thornton’s calm voice answered the call. “I don't know how, but they know who we are. We need out of here, now." 

"They know you're American agents?" He could picture her perfectly, eyebrow raised, arms crossed, standing in the middle of the War Room, unphased. 

"No, I mean, yes, but they know who we are," Mac tried to explain, quick eyes scanning across the dimly lit room searching for an explanation as to just how exactly their identities had been discovered. 

"And how do you know that for sure, Agent MacGyver?" 

His eyes automatically fell to his partner’s side, the weeping red letters so crudely emblazoned on his skin. "Ma'am, they know. We’ve been made and Jack's down. Get us out of here. Now." 

“I don’t recall our chain of command working in a way that you are in any position to be giving me orders, Agent.” 

He was fairly sure there was a joking connotation to her words, her idea of a haughty joke, but Mac wasn’t in any position, mentally or physically, to appreciate it and Jack certainly wasn’t. “Director Thornton, my partner is hurt, our mission, along with our covers and therefore our safety, is compromised. Arrange exfil for us or I will take care of it myself. Not sure if you’ve heard or not, but I’m pretty damn good at improvising.” 

She sighed, breath huffing loudly through the earpiece of his phone, and Mac knew he had won. “Can you get him outside the building?” 

“Hey, buddy,” Mac pressed the phone between his shoulder and his ear to drop a hand to Jack’s shoulder, pulling his attention away from the blazing fire he was staring at. “Thornton needs to know if you can make it out of here.”

Jack blinked up at him, pulling himself out of the memory and drawing his eyebrows into a wince when he realized that the pain was still there. “Course I can. We good?” 

“We’re gonna be,” Mac promised. “Director? He’s fairly confident that he can make it out of the building but I don’t know how far we can go from there.” 

“Do those damn good improvisational skills you were bragging about a moment ago extend to hot wiring a vehicle?” She asked with a sigh. 

“Yeah, I can get us a car, no problem.” He didn’t bother mentioning that he’d had a working knowledge of how to do just that since he was eight years old, though he hadn’t actually been brave enough to test the skills until he met Bozer.

“Do so,” She ordered. “Get the two of you out of there, with no more injuries or incidents, please, find a ride, and start putting some distance between yourselves and your current location.” 

“Copy. And then?” 

“Just, focus on getting that much done,” She said. “One step at a time. Call me again when you’re a few miles out.”

Mac didn’t like that she was expecting him to follow her plan without bothering to tell him what it was, but Jack was taking top priority over everything else at the moment. “Talk soon.” He quickly pocketed his phone and turned back to his partner, ducking his head to meet him at eye level. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

Jack nodded. “If I never see this room again, it’ll be too soon.” He stood with a groan, bracing his hands on his thighs to push himself up, and instantly fell into Mac, knees buckling. 

“Careful,” Mac scrambled to hold up Jack’s weight as he adjusted to the height change without aggravating the wound on his side. “Take it slow, I’ve got you.” 

“Hurts,” Jack panted, resting his forehead against the younger man’s shoulder, breath hot against Mac’s collarbone. “Moving hurts.” 

“Yeah, I bet it does,” Mac let a hand come to rest against the back of Jack’s neck. “The way they had you tied, your muscles were stretched out when they started… burning? It's gonna pull, holding your arm any other way for a while. Here," Mac carefully stepped back, keeping one hand on Jack's uninjured side to keep him steady as he pulled the arm above the burn across Jack's chest, bringing his hand up to rest on his shoulder. "Probably not the most comfortable way to hold it, but I think everything's gonna hurt right now, no matter what we do. Can you make it outside?" 

"Yeah," Jack closed his eyes for a moment, telling himself that doing anything but following those simple instructions wasn't an option. "Yeah, I'm alright."

The hallways were silent as the quietly crept through the maze of cinderblock walls and steel doors. Jack had memorized the path through the corridors when he had been dragged through them the first time, but he was having a difficult time thinking of anything other than the pulsing burn high on his side that seemed to reignite with every step he forced himself to take. It was a strange thing for him, letting Mac take the lead, but he didn't know if he would have been able to make it outside into the blessedly cool night air without his partner leading the way.

"You have a preference?" Mac asked, waving a hand towards the small yard that had been turned into a parking lot. Five vehicles sat, ready and waiting, to help them escape. "None of them look exactly up to your standards, but I think any of 'em will get us where we need to go." 

Jack weighed his options for a brief moment before nodding towards a little silver sedan. "That one. Probably quieter than the rest, less a chance of our friends back there hearin' an engine start up." It wasn't a lie, that had played a critical role in his decision, a decision Mac seemed satisfied with as he took off towards the driver's side door, but the car was low enough to the ground for Jack to just collapse into the passenger seat instead of climbing up into, and that had been a deciding factor as well. 

One successfully hotwired car and two miles down a brutally bumpy gravel road later, Mac called Director Thornton again. “We’re out. I need directions to whatever hospital you’ve cleared for our arrival.” 

“You are not taking one of my best operatives into some random hospital,” She protested. “Do you have any clue the number of steps it takes to get that level of clearance? He was capable of walking out of the compound on his own two feet, he can survive a plane ride back here to be treated by our medical staff.” 

“What?” Mac sputtered, taking a curve too fast in anger, two wheels slipping off the side of the road for a moment. It was telling just how much pain Jack was in when he didn’t even mention it. “No, he can’t! He needs help, now!” 

“Agent MacGyver, do you trust me?” When he and Jack had first started working with DXS, her calm demeanor had been reassuring to Mac. Now it was just making him angry. “You are approximately twenty minutes away from a local airstrip. There will be one of our jets there waiting on you. Get on it and come home. No rerouting, no improvising. As your boss, I’m ordering you to trust me.” 

He hung up the phone, not bothering with a response, but followed the road signs towards her desired destination, shooting worried glances at his hurting partner the whole way, realizing this was the first time he had ever been riding shotgun since they started working together. 

Jack had explained the expression of eating crow to Mac back during their first tour. The all-to-humbling experience of realizing you were wrong and having to admit it. That was the only thing Mac could think of when he helped Jack up the boarding steps onto one of DXS’s private jets only to find it staffed and waiting with a full medical team. Patricia Thornton had come through for them, just as she said she would. 

And it was because of her quick thinking and preparedness, that Mac found himself driving Jack back to his apartment after only one day spent in the medical wing. 

“I can’t believe you got out of there so quick. Figured they’d want to keep you for another day or two at least.” They were almost to Jack’s place and the entire car ride had been silent. 

“I can lay around and hurt at home just as well as I can there,” Jack grumbled, fidgeting with his seat belt, trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t irritate the freshly bandaged burns. “Don’t mean you have to stay with me though. I’m fine on my own.” 

“Nope. Not until after the follow up with that burn specialist in a few days.” 

They were still arguing about it as they walked up the steps to Jack’s apartment half an hour later. “What are you gonna tell Bozer?” Jack asked as he fumbled with his keys. “He’ll get suspicious if you just move in with me.”

Mac eventually took them out of his hand and opened the door himself. “I’ll tell him I’m staying with you for a few days. No big deal.” 

“Does he even know we’re back in the states?” Jack began an awkward attempt at pulling his t-shirt off one-handed as soon as he made it through the door. 

“Let me help,” Mac sighed, walking over and assisting even as Jack continued protesting. 

“I coulda got it,” He grumbled, dropping onto the couch with a huff, wincing as even resting his elbow on the armrest didn’t alleviate the pull on his burnt skin. “Damn it, this sucks. Can’t wear a shirt without it hurtin’, can’t sit on the couch like a normal person… How long till this heals again?” 

“Couple weeks till it stops really bothering you, probably,” Mac answered, voice muffled as he explored the meager contents of Jack’s fridge. “When was the last time you went to the store? There’s nothing in here but ketchup and sports drinks.” 

“Then we got the essentials covered,” Jack grinned. “If you’re hungry just call and order somethin’. You ain’t cooking. I don’t feel like dealin’ with that disaster waiting to happen. Already had my fair share of fire-related incidents for the week, thank you very much.” 

“I’ll pick up a few things, gotta pick up your prescriptions anyway.” Mac grabbed a Gatorade and twisted the lid off before bringing it to Jack. “You gonna be alright here for a little while?” 

“I’m fine,” He waved him off, balancing his arm on the back of the couch and trying to school his features into an assuring grin that ended up being more of a grimace. “Go.” 

“I won’t be gone long, call me if you need something, okay?” Mac handed him the remote from the coffee table on his way back out the door. 

“Don’t forget to call Bozer!” Jack called from behind him. 

Mac had a brief moment of panic when he wrestled his way into Jack’s apartment a few hours later, arms overflowing with bags from the nearest grocery store and the pharmacy, to find the couch where he left his partner earlier, empty. 

“I’m in here,” A voice called from the direction of the bathroom, Jack sensing his distress. 

“You alright?” Mac set the bags down on the island with a huff and went to check, rubbing at his wrists where the plastic handles had left indentions. 

“Yeah,” Jack was standing in front of the mirror, arm curled behind his head, staring at the letters burned into his skin. His eyes met Mac’s in the reflection. “Looks pretty gruesome, don’t it?” 

Mac had never seen that particular side of Jack. He was always bragging about his scars, showing them off proudly, comparing battle wounds with anyone who would try and rival him. This was something different though. He was staring at the three crudely formed letters almost self-consciously, so Mac chose his response carefully. “It… looks like it hurts.” 

Wrong answer.

Jack dropped his gaze, picking up a new bandage off the counter and tearing the packaging open with his teeth. 

“Hey,” Mac stepped closer, taking it from his one-handed grip. “Let me help.” Jack didn’t protest, which Mac took as a green light and quickly washed his hands before turning back to Jack. “You sure you’re as alright as you’re telling me you are?” 

Jack leaned back against the sink with a heavy sigh, crossing his arm across his chest to keep it out of Mac’s way as he carefully spread a layer of burn cream over the wound. “How’m I supposed to hide this one? I… What do I tell people about this, Mac? Civilians, I mean. There’s a brand, burned into my skin. And it’s the name of the top-secret agency nobody is supposed to know about, let alone know I work for, to boot.”

“It’s in a pretty easy to hide spot,” Mac offered, trying to break the tension. “Unless you’re, I don’t know, doing the YMCA with the Villiage People or something.” 

That got Jack to crack a smile but it wasn’t enough. “I can’t even wear a shirt without feelin’ like there’s a blowtorch under my arm. You’re callin’ that easy to hide?” 

“For a little while,” Mac admitted as he taped down the corners of the bandage. “That’s why we’re hiding out here. But once it heals it’ll be fine. C’mon, man, you’re like, the king of epic cover stories. Surely you can come up with something for this? Don’t overthink it. Lost a bet, frat thing back in college, the options are endless. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. It’s just gonna be another scar.” 

“I guess,” Jack nodded. “You done?” 

“Yup, you’re good to go,” Mac stood up and offered a smile. “You wanna watch a movie? Since you’re feeling understandably awful I might even let you pick which one.” 

“It’s my house,” Jack gently shoved him back into the living room with his good arm. “I’d get to pick anyway.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Mac rolled his eyes. “Cause that rule always applies when we’re at my house.” 

“That’s cause you have terrible taste in movies, pal.” 

“Whatever,” Mac laughed, going to put away the groceries while Jack made the difficult choice of which one of Bruce Willis’s greatest hits to watch for the millionth time. “Oh! Hey, about that t-shirt thing you were worried about? This might solve that problem. Picked it up for you while I was out.” He threw the bag onto the couch beside Jack. 

“What’s this?” He grinned when he pulled the white tanktop out and saw the Rolling Stones logo printed on the front.

“Figured you might like it. And before you ask, no, I didn’t cut the sleeves off, it came like that,” Mac assured. 

Jack was proudly wearing the new shirt, arm propped up on a stack of no less than six pillows to keep it raised enough that his muscles didn’t pull terribly on the burn when someone knocked on the door. “Hey,” A familiar voice called from the hallway. “Open up, guys. It’s me.” I brought pizza!” Bozer tempted in a happy sing-song voice. 

Jack had just under an hour left until his next round of pain meds, which meant that the last dose had almost entirely lost all effect. A hurting Jack, Mac had discovered early on in their partnership, was a grouchy Jack, so he didn’t take it personally when a set of angry eyes turned his way. “I told you to call him and let him know you were crashin’ with me for a few days, not invite him over for dinner.” 

“I didn’t,” Mac ran a worried hand through his hair. “It’s Boze. Food is his love language, you should know that by now. He thinks he’s helping.” 

“Well then, genius, how are we gonna explain this?” Jack waved at his pillow-supported arm. “A little too early for your frat story to be believable, doncha think? I’m still pretty much fresh out of the oven, here.” 

“Guys?” Bozer tried again, beginning to sound concerned. 

“Calm down,” Mac stood up and made his way to the door. “You can’t see the bandage or anything, even with that shirt, just… let me handle it.” 

“Hey!” The door swung open to reveal Bozer with a huge smile and two pizza boxes. “Was startin’ to get worried out here!” He stepped his way past Mac without waiting for an invitation in. “Where you at, Jack? Mac told me he was staying with you for a little while and was on a grocery run. I got worried y’all were gonna starve…” His voice trailed off as he took in Jack’s awkward position. “Woah, what happened to you?” 

“Um, the trip got a little crazy,” Mac hedged, taking the pizzas into the kitchen simply to give himself something to do with his hands. “You know how it gets.” 

“An energy conference?” Bozer frowned. “Got that crazy?” 

“Some crazy science nerd didn’t like who the judges chose as the winner of this year’s challenge,” Jack lied on the spot, watching Mac scramble for an answer out of the corner of his eye. “I stepped in before things got too out of hand, threw out my shoulder again.” 

“Again?” 

“Yeah,” He shrugged with his free arm. “Happens all the time. Old football injury that never healed right. Can pretty much pop it in and out on command. Wanna see?” 

“No, no,” Bozer held up surrendering hands. “That’s quite alright, you just… keep everything where it’s supposed to be.” 

“Suit yourself,” He turned back to the movie. “You can hang if you want but I’m not exactly the best company right now.” 

“No, I should…” He glanced back to Mac, looking for guidance, who shook his head and nodded slightly towards the door. “I should probably get home. Got the early shift tomorrow. Just thought I’d stop and check in. Bring dinner.” 

“We’ll be fine, Boze,” Mac smiled. “Thanks for the pizza.” 

“Yeah no problem,” He shrugged, shooting another concerned look at Jack. “Call if you need somethin’ else?” 

“Will do.” Mac walked him to the door, offering an apologetic smile before closing it and shutting Bozer out in the hall. “That was close,” Mac collapsed against the door in relief. He knew his roommate had questions but most likely would forget about how unusual the short visit had been once Mac went home. “See, it isn’t gonna be that hard to come up with a cover for it. You did it just now.” 

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Jack huffed. “Thought you said you had it under control?” 

“I would’ve thought of something,” Mac carried the pizzas over to the couch and sat them between him and Jack. “You just beat me to it. Now eat so you can take another round of meds. You get grouchy when you’re hurting.”

“Sorry,” Jack muttered, really meaning it. “I’m not too easy to deal with at the moment, huh?” 

“You’re fine,” Mac smiled and took a slice for himself, nodding for Jack to do the same. “I knew what I was signing up for.” 

It was a lie and they both knew it. Neither knew what to expect when they started working at DXS, but Jack had a partner who was willing to drop everything, to lie to his best friend, to stay by his side when he needed him. A partnership like that was forged in fire, sometimes literally, and it was a bond that was unbreakable.


End file.
